


Making Shades of Purple Out of Red and Blue

by heartofthejunk



Series: Klance Week 2016 [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Day 1, Klance Week, Klance Week 2016, M/M, Red/Blue - Freeform, Street artist au, klance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-05
Updated: 2016-08-05
Packaged: 2018-07-29 14:30:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7688050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heartofthejunk/pseuds/heartofthejunk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Lance is a secret artist and Keith sees red.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Making Shades of Purple Out of Red and Blue

**Author's Note:**

> This is late oops!
> 
> day 1 of klance week, red / blue

Lance snuck into the dark of the night, midnight air coiling around him like a cobra. The stars were barely visible through the clouds, not that they were very visible at all because of the light pollution in the city. He tiptoed down an alley where neon signs from the hotel next door lit the entire thing up in an orange glow. He pressed his back against the wall of the alley and looked around the corner, checking for cops. Seeing no patrol cops, he grinned and turned back to the bare wall. He hefted the duffel bag off of his shoulder and winced at the loud sound of the zipper that he still hadn't grown accustomed to. The sound seemed to resonate in the emptiness of the night but Lance knew that was an illusion of the mind.

Inside the bag were the dozens of shades of blue spray paint that, frankly, Lance couldn't really afford. That was the perk of working at an art shop; he got a certain dollar amount of supplies free and got a discount on everything else. Without that job, he wouldn't be able to do what he was truly passionate about - graffiti. He pulled out his outline color and made circles with his arms, stretching them out. He uncapped the can and got to work.

Each stroke, each movement, had a purpose of its own. Every stripe of paint had a story and a feeling behind it. Lance was extremely picky and careful about his art and worked meticulously. His arm hovered steadily over his canvas, cobalts and indigos staining the wall. Because of the high police concentration in the city, he had to work quickly. Half an hour of working produced something gorgeous - a female ice skater, arms outstretched for balance as she skated across the wall on one leg. The other stuck straight out behind her. Her smile was captivating and her dress seemed to sparkle despite the darkness of the night. Her ponytail swished behind her, seeming to blow behind her as if she was _actually_ moving across a rink and not painted onto a wall. With a few last touches, Lance smiled. He'd really outdone himself this time.

He didn't know what first inspired him to graffiti walls. He supposed it was the art he saw walking down the street in the city where he lived. His first painting was horrible, a blotched mess. That had been when he was fifteen. Now, at nineteen, he was practically a professional. His paintings were famous for their odd theme - each one was done in all blue. Over the last year, every new installation made the front cover of the local newspaper and was the subject of many news blogs. They all called him Lonely Blue, due to the fact that his portraits all seemed to be one person with a missing partner. Lance liked that his identity was secret, but sometimes he regretted it. He knew he could get plenty of money for his paintings but he could also be put in jail.

Lance turned away from his masterpiece and zipped up his duffel bag. Again, the zipper made an obnoxiously loud noise. It put him on edge. He slung the bag over his shoulder and leaned out from the corner of the alleyway, still bathed in an interview odd orange light. He saw the coast was clear and jogged all the way home.

The next morning, Lance's alarm clock went off at its usual time - 9:30 in the morning. He woke up and remembered it was Thursday; he didn't have to be at work until 12pm. He sighed contentedly and fell back into his bed with a smile on his face. He rolled over and grabbed his phone, scrolling through an art news app. He stopped short when he saw a headline. **_LONELY BLUE FINDS A PARTNER IN CRIMSON_**. Lance kept scrolling and clicked the article, slightly afraid of what he was to find.

Lance had heard of a guy they called Crimson. He was like Lance, only choosing to paint in shades of red. His work was impressive - Lance would give him that. It was up to par with his own, quite possibly better, depending on who you asked. He dreamed of working with the guy but had never encountered him or sought him out.

When the article loaded, Lance was surprised to see that his ice skater now had a partner. Wrapped around her waist was a pair of strong arms, clad in a blood-red costume. He skated in the same position as her, moving on only one leg. His smile was as stunning as hers. The pair looked like they belonged together.

But Lance was confused. He'd made this painting last night. How had Crimson found it _that night_ and added a partner before sun up? He furrowed his eyebrows and rolled over in bed. He glanced at his alarm clock and saw it was now around ten o' clock. He pushed himself up off the bed and started to get ready for work.

An hour and a half later, Lance was out the door and on his bike to work. The bell above the door chimed as he walked in, alerting his co-worker Keith that he had come in. He went to the back, put on his apron, and walked to the front to walk around aimlessly until someone asked him for help. He neatened up the shelves a bit. He swept the floors after he knocked down three packages of glitter. Keith scolded him. Just a normal work day.

All the while, Lance was trying to come up with a plan. How would he meet Crimson? Somehow Crimson had figured out when he had painted and where. Who was to say that he wouldn't figure it out twice? While Keith yelled at Lance like usual, Lance tuned out to come up with a plan. He decided to paint again tonight to see if Crimson would complete his painting again. If he did, Lance would leave a note at his next work telling Crimson a time and place to meet next.

"Lance, are you even listening to me?" Keith growled, crashing Lance's train of thought.

"Uhm... yes?"

"Oh my _god_ ," Keith huffed. He pushed past Lance and his glitter mess. "I'm going on break," he announced. "Man the register until I'm back. And _don't_ ," Keith thrust his finger towards Lance forcefully. "Flirt with customers."

Lance teasingly saluted. "Sir, yes sir!" he barked. Keith rolled his eyes and left the shop, leaving Lance alone. This time alone was when Lance would buy his paint. He crept back to the spray paint section and grabbed a few cans of whatever he was running low on. He rung himself up and put the money in the register. He then sat and waited for Keith or a customer to come around.

Keith soon came back and relieved Lance of his duty at the registers. Lance went back to stocking shelves and cleaning up messes. Just a normal work day.

That night, Lance painted again. He chose his next canvas carefully. The night was windy, which was unfortunate for him, but he'd make it work. The chill in the air seeped through his light jacket but he figured it was too late now to go back home and grab another. By then, there would be very little light to work with.

Lance set his duffle bag down and unzipped it, looking at his options. He picked out a sky blue for the outline of the painting and got to work. His eyes narrowed in concentration, his nose scrunched. Half way through working, the wind direction shifted. The building walls now blocked the drafts, something he was extremely thankful for. This would allow his work to be neater.

Once he was finished, he stepped back and gazed upon the finished product. It wasn't his best, but at least it was something. The feminine figure was walking seemingly out of the wall itself. She was mid-laugh, and Lance swore she could hear her giggles in the back of his mind. Her scarf whipped in the wind behind her. Her hand was outstretched. It seemed as if she was missing something - the person holding her hand and making her laugh. Hopefully Crimson got the message.

Lance looked back and forth from the corner of the alley. A woman with a dog passed and he flattened himself against the building, praying she wouldn't see him. The dog didn't even bark, only momentarily looked in Lance's direction. When they both passed, he sighed in relief and started home.

The next morning he woke up at the usual time, seeing that he had only a few minutes before he should start to get ready because he had to be in work earlier today. Sure enough, the first article he came across was one about the 'partnership' between Lonely Blue and Crimson. Crimson _had_  gotten the message. Hand in hand with Lance's cyan girl was Crimson's rouge one. She was laughing as well, her head thrown back & her eyes shut. Her ruby red fingers were clasped to the blue hand of Lance's painting. Lance thought the addition was perfect. He closed the app and got ready for work.

When he got there, Keith had already opened. Somehow their shifts always overlapped. "Morning, Keith!" Lance greeted, flashing him a winning smile. Keith grumbled something incoherent in response and put his head down on the counter. Lance had noticed the bags under his eyes when he first saw his co-worker. "Someone's sleepy," he teased. Keith didn't look up. He flipped Lance off. Lance frowned. "Listen, I finished stocking the new shipments yesterday. I'll man the register. You go to the back and take a nap. I'll wake you up before Shiro gets up."

Keith looked up, mouth agape in surprise. "You- You'd let me do that?"

"Yeah, don't sweat it." Lance moved behind the counter. "Now get your ass back there."

"Thanks," Keith mumbled groggily before he slunk to the back room. Lance leaned on the counter and smiled. Keith was a lot cuter when he was tired. He dismissed the thought from his mind. His long-term crush on his co-worker was distracting but he didn't let it affect him. Besides, Keith wasn't very fond of him anyhow.

It was a slow day at the shop, but then again, it always was. Few customers showed up and Lance handled it well. He glanced at the clock. Shiro was due in half an hour but sometimes he showed early. Lance flipped the 'gone to lunch' sign and went to the back to wake Keith.

Keith was stretched out on the ugly orange couch in the back room. His hands were laced above his head, his shirt riding up ever so slightly. Lance forced his eyes to Keith's sleeping face. A small pool of drool dripped from his mouth. His chest rose and fell evenly with every breath. Lance remembered that he wasn't supposed to stare at Keith - he was supposed to wake him up. He sighed and shook the boy gently by his shoulders. "Keith," he whispered. "Wake up. Shiro'll be here soon."

Keith slowly sat up and rubbed his eyes with one hand. "Thanks, Lance. I needed that sleep."

"Don't worry about it. You would've done the same thing for me," Lance said, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly.

"No, I wouldn't have," Keith mumbled, walking back to the front. Lance followed, flipped over the 'gone to lunch' sign so it read 'open', and got ready for the rest of his day. He was going to have another long night. He didn't know hoe he wasn't exhausted all the time, but he supposed it could be all the coffee he drank. Shiro came in on time and replaced Keith. Allura came only minutes later, letting Lance leave.

Later that night, Lance made his way down the stairs of his apartment building with his duffle bag over his shoulder. The doorman, Coran, looked at him oddly. "That's the third night this week that you've left with that duffle bag. Don't tell me a murderer lives in this building."

Lance laughed. "Nah, I'm going to a sports clinic this week," he lied. He patted the bag. "This ol' thing has all my equipment." Coran nodded and waved him off. As he walked away, he let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. "That was close," he muttered to himself, making his way to the busier part of town.

Once he got downtown, not many people were outside. It was a Saturday, so that was sort of odd, but he didn't think much of it. He found a blank wall he'd had his eyes on for a while. Because it was facing the street, Crimson shouldn't have an issue finding it. Although, because it was in broad daylight, Lance would have to work quickly. He didn't hesitate in picking which paints he was using, nor did he plan what he painted. Instead, he let it flow out of him. When he was finished, the painting was of a man sat next to a campfire, on a log. His mouth was open in mid-song. In his hands was an acoustic guitar, his fingers on the fret board. The logs of the campfire were unlit. Lance figure Crimson would know what to do, as he did so many times before.

On the corner of the scene,  Lance left a post-it note. On it, it said, _I want to meet to work on an actual partner project. Outside Hunk's Art Supply, Main Street, 11:00._ Tomorrow was Lance's day off. Hopefully, Crimson would see the note. If not, it was no sweat off of Lance's back. There was a stellar cafe across the street, so Lance would stop in for lunch of Crimson decided not to show. He went to sleep that night, his dreams colored in shades of blue and red, coming together to make purple.

The next day, Lance walked to the art shop with a spring in his step. He was a bit excited to meet this Crimson. As much as he told himself that he was the original and Crimson was sort of copying him with a different color, he couldn't deny that Crimson's work was amazing. He was sort of a fangirl.

When he got to the shop a few minutes early, he was surprised to see Keith leaning against the shop. "Keith, hey!" he greeted, waving to his shift partner. Keith looked up and smiled a small smile.

"Hey Lance, what're you doing here? I thought you had the day off too." Keith said.

"I'm just meeting someone here," Lance replied.

Keith quirked an eyebrow. "That's so funny. So am I."

"What a coincidence," Lance agreed.

Both boys waited in silence. Lance must've glanced at his phone thirty times in a half an hour. "I guess my person isn't coming," he sighed.

"That's a bummer," Keith supplied. "Maybe they were chased away by your ugly face."

Lance stuck his tongue out at Keith. "Joke's on you, they've never seen my face. Besides, I don't see your person either," he threw back. He crossed his arms triumphantly at Keith's slack-jawed expression.

"Wait... Lonely Blue?"

Lance's eyes widened in shock. "Keith, you're Crimson?"

"Shh," Keith hissed, a murderous look in his eyes. "I swear if anyone finds out, I _will_  kill  you. Don't think I won't." Lance nodded and mimed zipping his lips, locking them, and throwing away the key. "So anyways," Keith began, scratching the back of his arm anxiously. "What's that partnership you were talking about?"

The next morning on Lance's art news blog, an all purple painting appeared. The painting was of two faceless male figures holding spray paint cans. They both worked in purple, painting two male figures smiling at each other. At the bottom of the painting, the words, _here's to a new partnership_ were painted in blue and red paint. The headline read, **_PURPLE PARTNERSHIP CONFIRMED._**

**Author's Note:**

> If you'd like to scream with me about Voltron go to my tumblr (ocean-rising) or wattpad (-oceanrising)


End file.
